


Last Call

by Inell



Series: Teeny Fic Challenge [30]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Bar Owner Danny, Bar Owner Jackson, Detective Stiles, Established Danny Mahealani/Jackson Whittemore, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Multi, Mutual Pining, Past Stiles Stilinski/Original Character(s), Polyamory, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 03:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9949163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: Stiles decides to drown his sorrows but the bar owners aren’t cooperating with his plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [42hrb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/42hrb/gifts).



> Anonymous said: Stiles/Jackson/Danny

 

“What do you mean I can’t order the whole bottle?” Stiles looks at Danny and narrows his eyes. “You’re a bar. You sell alcohol. That means you have to sell _me_ alcohol.”

“And I will. Just not an entire bottle of vodka,” Danny says dryly. “You’re a regular customer, Stiles. If you die from alcohol poisoning, the only place you’ll be a regular is Holly Lawn.”

“Nah, I’m being cremated, not buried, so no six feet under, worms crawling in my skull future for me, Danny boy.” Stiles taps his fingers against the bar. “Anyway, a bottle of vodka won’t kill me. Disproved that junior year of high school. Whiskey won’t, either, for the record.”

“Duly noted. You’re still not getting an entire bottle.” Danny wipes the bar where Stiles is tapping his fingers. “Anyway, why would you want one? You don’t like getting drunk.”

“Luke dumped me today,” Stiles admits, making a face. “I mean, it wasn’t a surprise, really? But I guess I didn’t expect it to happen so soon. Usually, I manage to go at least three months before my personality overwhelms them so much or they hate my devotion to my job and break it off.”

“You haven’t lasted three months with anyone since you’ve been coming here,” Danny points out, reaching down to get a glass and scooping some ice into it. “Most of them don’t even make it three _dates_ before they’re out of the picture.”

“Yeah, well, _you’ve_ lasted longer than three months,” Stiles says defensively. “I’ve been coming to Mālama since I joined the force five years ago.”

“I’m easy to maintain a relationship with because you only see me a few nights a week, and there’s always a bar between us.” Danny dimples at him as he puts the glass of ice on the bar and reaches for the vodka. The good stuff that Stiles can’t usually indulge in because he’s just a detective at the NYPD and not a millionaire.

“You’re also Taken, with a capital T.” Stiles reaches for the glass before Danny can change his mind, sipping the alcohol before licking his lips. He notices Danny’s gaze drop to his mouth and fights the urge to preen.

“Yes, he is, so don’t forget it, Sparky.” Jackson is suddenly there with his pretty face and sharp cheekbones and bad attitude to ruin the moment Stiles is having with Danny. As always. “So, I heard that loser finally got out of your life.”

“I don’t know what you always had against him,” Stiles mutters, taking another sip of his vodka. “You couldn’t stand him the first time I brought him here, and it went way beyond your normal asshole behavior.”

“He always smelled like other people,” Jackson says simply. “I told you that, remember?”

“No, you told me not to fuck him because he only wanted sex,” Stiles reminds him. “I’d remember if you told me the guy I was dating was cheating on me.”

“That was Jackson’s way of telling you,” Danny says, resting his forearms on the bar and leaning over to kiss Jackson. Stiles watches because he’s only human, well magical human but whatever, and they’re hot. No, they’re hot apart, but together they’re like a fucking blazing inferno of hotness.

“Next time, just use your words or have Danny tell me. I wasted four dates on that jerk,” Stiles mutters, kicking his foot against the front of the bar. “I’m just glad I actually _didn’t_ fuck him. That’s always the worst. When they use you for sex until they’ve had their fill then just get rid of you like you don’t mean a damn thing.”

“You have horrible taste in men _and_ women,” Danny points out. “You go after people who don’t deserve you then come whine at my bar about another failed relationship. The cycle has been going on for five years, Stiles. Isn’t it time to finally stop it?”

“Dude, I’m trying.” Stiles waves his hand in the air as he talks, accidentally hitting Jackson’s shoulder. “I keep accepting dates because I think maybe it’ll turn out to be The One, but they never are, and it’s getting really depressing. I mean, I’m totally satisfied with my life, my job, my dog, and all that, so it’s not like I need someone else to be content, but it’d be nice to wake up with someone in the morning and have lazy sex before work and quickies during lunch sometimes and just have someone around who wants to be with me.”

“You need a were,” Jackson says, smirking at him when Stiles looks his way. “We’re devoted, loyal, have an _amazing_ refractory period, and we like to cuddle.”

“I dated a were in college. He was into rough sex, riding my dick, and belittling me because I didn’t turn furry.” Stiles makes a face. “Not saying they’re all like that, of course, but I haven’t found one yet who was interested in more than just sex and getting off.”

“He sounds charming,” Danny deadpans. “They’re definitely not all like that. Jackson might be an asshole, but he does love to cuddle.”

“You just didn’t pick the right were, obviously.” Jackson sniffs haughtily and fusses with his cufflinks. “Not surprising considering your utter obliviousness to interested parties.”

“Jackson,” Danny says, his tone warning. Stiles looks at him in surprise since he doesn’t usually hear Danny say Jackson’s name that way. He’s usually really relaxed and laid-back, which somehow balances Jackson’s haughty assholeishness.

They’re two of the first friends he made when he moved to New York City from San Francisco, choosing to leave the FBI after only a few years to become the lead detective in a supernatural unit for the NYPD. They own the bar, inherited from Danny’s grandfather, who opened it as a sanctuary for the supernaturally inclined back during the Second World War. Danny’s actually human, no interest in magic or anything like that, but Jackson’s a bitten werewolf, turned when he was fifteen, from what they told Stiles. Stiles is a spark, has magic that he doesn’t really use that often, but it makes him not-human in the traditional sense, which is why he’s welcome at Mālama.

Right now, Danny and Jackson are having one of their silent conversations. Stiles has witnessed these often since he became friends with them, and he still doesn’t know how to read their eye movements and lips quirks in any kind of helpful way. Usually, he just gets distracted because Jackson’s got a great mouth, the kind that makes Stiles think about seeing those lips wrapped around his dick, and Danny’s got this intense gaze that can be so sexy when he’s trying to convey something to Jackson.

Getting more than a little turned on by his friends is a bad thing, so Stiles takes a too large gulp of his vodka, choking slightly as he swallows. Jackson’s sliding off his barstool and stroking Stiles’ back as he coughs, and Danny’s leaning over, encouraging him to take deep breaths. His face turns blotchy as he blushes, feeling like an awkward teenager suddenly instead of a relatively mature thirty-three year old. “Not dying,” he wheezes, coughing again before giving them a sheepish smile. “Went down the wrong pipe.”

“We want to date you.” Danny blinks when Stiles gape at him, the expression of surprise on his face totally sincere.

“Way to be smooth and casual, babe,” Jackson murmurs, smiling smugly when Danny flips him off. “Thought you wanted to wait. Again.”

“We’ve been waiting for nearly five years,” Danny grumbles, suddenly interested in cleaning the bar. “Every time there’s a break up, we say we’ll give him time, then he’s back in with someone else almost immediately.”

“Dude. If the he you’re talking about is me then you’re full of shit,” Stiles points out. “I’m not some kind of serial dater or so desperate I can’t be alone.” He clears his throat. “Whatever. Did you seriously just say you want to date me?”

“Yes, we do,” Jackson says, looking at Stiles curiously. “Two for one, Sparky. What do you say?”

“I say that my name is Stiles, _not_ Sparky, and that I need to know this isn’t some joke or pity date,” he tells him bluntly. “I mean, you’re a werewolf, so you obviously smell my lust every time I’m around you guys, but I don’t need you to feel sorry for me because some jerk like Luke dumped me.”

“We feel a lot of things for you, Stiles, but pity doesn’t happen to be one of them,” Danny says, looking up and giving him that intense gaze that he’s only ever seen aimed at Jackson.

“I think we broke him,” Jackson points out when Stiles just gapes at them, trying to wrap his brain around all of this. “Who knew the best way to get him to shut up was to ask him out?”

“Asshole,” Stiles mutters, looking from Jackson to Danny and back again. “You really mean it? You want to go on a date with me? Both of you?”

“It’s almost time for last call, and you’re off tomorrow, so why don’t you finish your drink, and we can take you out for three a.m. breakfast once we close up,” Danny suggests, reaching out to stroke the back of Stiles’ hand. “We really do mean it, Stiles. If you’re interested in us that way.”

“I haven’t ever thought about it,” he admits. “You two are together, and, sure, there have been fantasies, _a lot_ of fantasies, but never anything…dating like.”

“Fuck it.” Jackson stands up and whistles. “Last call. Bar closes in five minutes. I don’t care where you go as long as it’s not here.” There’s some grumbling but no one is going to fuss even if the bar’s closing more than a half an hour early. Jackson looks back at them and smirks. “There. Everyone’s leaving now, so we can finish this without the audience who’s been listening.”

“Oh God.” Stiles groans and leans his head forward against the bar. Of course some of the regulars were listening. Nosy damn supernatural sensory creatures. “Now they’re going to know I’ve jerked off thinking about you two.”

“As if most of them haven’t, too,” Jackson says, flashing a cocky smile that makes Stiles’ lips twitch. “And you’re the one we’re inviting for breakfast and planning to seduce into our bed, so who gives a fuck what they heard.”

“Seduce?” Stiles raises his head and shifts on his barstool. “There’s going to be seduction?”

“Stiles, there’s going to be _so much_ seduction,” Danny promises, voice husky and dripping with sex.

“Yeah. Okay. I’m totally in,” Stiles says, punching Jackson’s thigh when he snorts and deliberately sniffs the air. “For breakfast and dating and, uh, seduction.”


End file.
